Someone you know or a stranger?
I had a nasty fellow in the seat next to me. I hoped he would get off at the next stop, but I had no such luck.
He sat
He was disgusting. His fingernails were long and dirty, and his right-hand pinkie was so long, it curled under. With this, he scratched his uncombed, oily hair, which made me move as far away as possible, hugging the side of the bus.
His clothes were grimy — ragged jeans and a filthy grey hoodie that once must‘ve been red. There were faded pinkish patches here and there. He wore sandals. Mud-coated feet ended in grubby toes, hanging over the front of his sandals.
He had a satchel of sorts. Worn cracked leather with only one strap and buckle working. This he clutched to his chest.
Stop #2 was coming up; surely, this was his stop!
Nope. He sat, and I sat. By now, I was fascinated and wondering how far he was going. I tried to peep at him without moving my head. He noticed and grinned, showing stubby yellowed teeth. A whiff of rancid breath that could kill a snake wafted my way.
I noticed a hair growing out of his ear and something like smoke. As that was impossible, I decided it was a shadow.
Then there was the beard. A scruffy, full beard with pieces of food stuck into it. Something moved. Could there be fleas in that mess?
He unstrapped his satchel and pulled out a sandwich. It looked as if he had dug it out of a trash can. The bread had green mouldy patches, and the filling looked like raw meat. Blood oozed out, dripping into his beard as he bit into it and chewed lustily. He used that pinkie nail to clean his teeth between bites.
With his mouth full, he turned to me. “So,” he said. “What do you do for a living?”
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and continued eating.
“I’m a writer,” I said.
“Ah, are you a good one?” He stuck the unwrapped half-eaten sandwich into his satchel and looked at me.
I shrugged “I guess I’m not too bad,” I said, not wanting to enter a conversation with him.
“Not as good as some?” He started laughing and wheezing, and white mucus ran out of his nose. Once again, the back of his hand did duty as a handkerchief. He looked at his hand, brought it to his mouth, and licked it.
I felt my lunch push up in my throat and fought it back. What would happen if I barfed all over him?
This was a nightmare. I considered getting off at the next stop, even if it was miles from home. But it was dark and in a not-so-safe area.
I scuttled back to lean again against the side of the bus. Three more stops came and went, but still he sat.
I missed my stop
Much to my shame, I was so engrossed in this revolting creature that I missed my stop!
We rode the entire route together until we were back at the start of the line.
“Excuse me,” I said as I climbed over him. I’d had enough. I would catch another bus. It would be a longer ride, but I’d be rid of this specter.
And what do you know but it said — “Can I come with you?”
I turned and glared. “No! You’ve made your point. Go and haunt someone else. And thanks, but no thanks for the lesson. Before you attach yourself to another person with the same problem as me, kindly take a bath.”
“Sure, my dear. It’s no problem finding someone. There are plenty of your kind around. I have a full day ahead of me.”
When I got home, I took a hot shower. I swore I would never let that specter ride with me again.
Its name?
Envy.
The demon that sits down next to me when I see other writers succeed, and I’m limping along.
But this I know. Since that specter rode with me, when I think I might be envious, I count my blessings, laugh, and send him off to find somebody needing a lesson.
For where envy and self-seeking exist, confusion and every evil thing are there (James 3:16.NKJV).
The idea of riding on a bus came from something I read by Mark Thibodeau SJ in his book, “God’s Voice Within.”
18 thoughts on “Who Is Sitting Next to You on the Bus?”
Ida!
You totally got me! With my brow furrowed and nose wrinkling at the descriptions in your essay, I read on, wondering how it would end. What a surprise to find that you were describing the character I sometimes find near (or in?) myself.
Sorry I’m getting to this so late. I was away from CS for most of the summer, but am happy to be back and catching up with your insightful writing.
Mary
Hello Mary! I do hope you had a nice summer. We escaped the Florida heat and came north, but it’s been iffy. There has been lots of rain and high winds, and with three dogs, I’m sure you get the picture.
I’m glad you enjoyed That Unwanted Bus Companion. It’s funny how these thoughts sometimes leap out and say, ” Write about me!” I now have to tackle my critical nature—not only of others but also of myself. And then, of course, There is the Apprenticed Apostle. He’s not doing too well but I hope his stories will take off.
Thanks again and welcome back.
Thank you for the thoughts on envy. I couldn’t stop reading it, wondering where it was going. Your description of the “person” was incredible.
Hello Barbara! I am humbled you thought my description was incredible. When I wrote that piece, I kept thinking how ugly a sin envy was, and those adjectives just kept coming!
Thanks for responding. Are you a cat person, it looks like a Siamese on that thumbnail. Take care, and have a blessed day.
I live in NYC and I encounter many people similar to the one you described. But one thing I enjoy is striking up a conversation with the homeless population, and they often surprise and uplift me. Sure they are not wearing button-down shirts and sharply creased khakis, but what strikes me about them is their positive outlook. Dirty clothes and piles of whatever in their shopping cart belies joy that I wish we could all have. My “regulars” all greet me with a big smile and a hearty Good Morning! They move from one place to another for shelter during rainy days under the scaffolding, but so what? They are happy, and they make me happy. I make eye contact with them, give them a few dollar bills, sometimes I buy them lunch, and a God bless you, and I see a human being dearly loved by God.
Hello Jess!
Thanks for a wonderful response. No, I also have a soft spot for the homeless and dish out some money when I encounter them. Let’s face it, many American families are one paycheck away from being homeless.
This story about who is sitting next to you on the bus was in no way a reflection on the homeless. It was a fictitious recreation of sin—that of envy.
Thanks again.
Beautiful, Jess! You see the Christ in your homeless friends!
Blessings to you!
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Hi Ida
I’m late but I was cruising the Catholic Stand readings to see if you had written anything.
Well, you got me again! I’m following the story, then wham, bam, you you hit us with the moral of the story. Excellent!
You are quite gifted. I’m sure there are those who envy your style.
Thank you.
Happy Friday
Mike
Moorhead, MN
Well, good morning from a foggy morning in Upstate New York. And what a treat to read your comment. I often wonder about how and why I write, and then I read your remarks, and I remember – this is why I do it. It means something to some people.
Thanks again and blessings on your day.
Thank you for your article. Your style of writing is unique and enjoyable.
Hello Richard!
Sorry for replying so late, but I put my head down and burrowed into writing land. My first novel has two chapters to go—it’s only the first draft—but I’m so excited at having come this far. God’s been pushing and shoving me all the way.
I’m grateful you like my writing style. It’s all I know how to do.
Take care and stay safe.
Ida
Awesome reflection, Ida. Thanks for sharing!
Hello there! Thanks for that lovely compliment. I’m late with everything as I have some mammoth writing tasks – all prayers are welcome and appreciated.
Take care and stay safe,
Ida